Grisaille
by Amciel
Summary: It was the summer of 2009. I made a stupid wish upon a star. It eventually got me killed.
1. An End to All Things

**Grisaille**  
Chapter 1: An End to All Things

_What an idiot I am! _

_-Kuchiki Rukia, Memories in the Rain_

Before our story really starts, I'd like you to study the opening scene for a moment.

Night, tables lit by lanterns, waterfall in the background—see how that one girl is ever so slightly out of place in the picturesque setting? Her crazy blonde curls, turned feral by the humidity, stand out like a turd in a punch bowl among the other dark haired tourists. The mess is piled into a bun, stabbed in place by an assortment of pencils. Nice people call her curvy but the magazines consider her fat since her clothes are a size or two above single digits. A plate of curry is in her left hand, a water bottle in her right, shopping bag draped over one arm, umbrella hooked to the other, and a red backpack bulging with books tops off her accessory ensemble. A set of chopsticks are clenched in her teeth. She chatters around them into the phone clamped with one shoulder to her ear. A pair of dark framed glasses (held together by scotch-tape, wishes, and the power of clichè) resolutely slide down the arch of her nose . The slightly hooked nose makes her look slightly older then her nineteen years of age.

Go a little closer! She doesn't seem to be paying attention, too busy brushing rain and refuse off a rock next to the koi pond. The only light near her is a fancy lantern, but it's enough to show the problem spots which betray her battle with acne. She wears mascara and eyeliner slightly too black for her complexion, and is wiping off her shiny lipgloss with a napkin (she had to set down the curry first and spiked the chopsticks into the rice). A purple t-shirt with clashing blue canvas shorts clashes even more with her long socks and worn tennis shoes. She pays that less heed then she gives us. She's just gotten off of a nine hour shift and is trying to pretend she doesn't need a shower. Pull in. Let's hear what she's saying.

"Shiro-chaaaaaan! I wish you were here too!"

A pause.

"No, I don't wish I was there. You, my friend are in France, while _I _dear Captain, am enjoying my day here in Japan!"

Though her friend has no way to see, the subject of our focus waves an arm about her head, encompassing shops, a few restaurants, beautiful gardens, and a large red Torii gate just offshore.

"Oh Sarah," she continues, "the curry here is fantastic! AND I bought a box of Pocky speaking Japanese with the clerk!"

Across the lake, you can see the Mexican pyramid neighboring China. America is next door, and Morocco just around the corner.

"What was that? Um...no. It was a girl. I don't have the guts to talk Japanese with the hot native boys yet, so no progress on the bet with Mehlanie...I mean, Don Kanonji. But hey, there's a store across the street that sells Bleach merchandise! I'll get you a Hitsugaya shirt or something, okay?"

A giggle follows here.

"Byakuya stuff?"

Another pause as she looks sideways at her merchandise bag.

"Eh...some."

If your eyes are sharp, you would catch the whitnening knuckles as she grips the bag tighter.

"Um...a squad six pin. And a chibi Byakuya pin...and a hot Byakuya poster. No plushie though!" She neglects to mention that she purchased that a few months ago off of Amazon. More laughter, a quick farewell, and the phone goes back into her cheap backpack now boasting the two new Bleach pins. With a glance around, she cheerfully whispers "_Itadakimas_!", and digs into her dinner.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The voice boomed out over the lake. "In just five minutes, you will be experience Epcot's night-time spectacular Illuminations:Reflections of Earth!"

Alright, enough staring. First impressions made? Good. My name is Megan Grey. Sorry, was Megan Grey. It was the summer of 2009 and all of my dreams were coming true. Taking two semesters off of school, I'd scored the coveted job of being an intern for Walt Disney World's entertainment industry and had just finished my second week of grueling work rehearsing for shows and parades. No, I was not really in Japan—just enjoying the evening in Epcot's World Showcase Lagoon. I've got just one more detail to add to the scene—then this picture of me will be complete.

There really was no one on the other end of the phone. Do you know how expensive it would be to REALLY call Sarah/Shiro-chan on her study abroad in France? I hadn't spoken to her in months, except for breif chats over MSN and facebook and I missed her like crazy. I shovled the curry into my mouth. It was uncommonly good. I'd purchased it 3 times already, and at 7 bucks a plate it was almost worth it. There were nights like this a lot. Rehearsals rounded up around 8, and I'd head off to one of the parks to watch fireworks and parades. One of the BEST perks of this new job? Free admission to all the Disney Parks. Second best perk? 20% off of all merchandise...including the wall of Bleach stuff in Epcot Japan.

My bag buzzed. A text! (When talking to myself, I'd turn the ring off. Nothing gives away a fake conversation like a "bingledingding*tinkle*bing YOU'VE GOT MAIL!") Pulling the Byakuya keychain attached to my zipper, I retrieved my bright green phone, which I affectionately called Kermit.

_megan! here for fireworks with cami where you at? -kita _

That's right...aw, man! I was tired, sore, and stinky, but I'd made a promise. Both girls were college program like me. I'd met Nikita the first day here, waiting for the bus from the check in point to our apartment. Cami was a friend from auditions back in April. Now here we were, the first week of June. Niki was working main entrance at Magic Kingdom. Cami didn't get past the auditions but ended up at the Disney Quest building in Down Town Disney. (I'd tried my hardest to hook either of them onto Bleach, but...can't win them all) The three of us had such different schedules it was a rare chance indeed to get the same night off. I'm pretty sure they'd already spent the day together, and I'd promised to meet them for the show that night. Sliding open my phone, my thumbs started flying. (I'd come late onto the whole texting scene. Didn't get a phone until Christmas my first year of college. Good thing there was a full keybord, otherwise my speed would be woefully inadequate)

_I'm eating curry in Japan! Where are your spots? I'll find you!_

There was hardly a wait before Kermit buzzed again.

_by gateway -kita_

I bit my lip. My sore muscles begged me to stay put, but I sighed and got to my feet. The International Gateway was across the lake near Future World, about the farthest you could get from where I was. It was a summery Tuesday evening, the park was crowded, and I glanced up to see if the rain was still a problem. The sky was pretty clear. A few stars peeked through the clouds. On reflex, I made the same silly wish on them as always ...but that's not really important right now. Shoving things in my bag, I darted back into the Yakitori House restaurant, home to amazing curry. I asked once of the cashiers if I could have an empty plate to place over the top of my full one. My food now protected from the unpredictable Florida weather, I headed out into the surge of people packing around the lake.

"Aunt Megan! Hi!" The voice called out from above the Moroccan Pavilion. Most people would panic if they saw a four year old boy hanging by his knees from a palm tree. I smiled and waved back enthusiastically, delighted to have the chance to see him tonight. Peter really did enjoy the fireworks.

He must have, to watch them every night for the past fifteen years.

Peter died from heatstroke when his family was on vacation here in 1995. I met him my first night in Epcot after the show and made the mistake of trying to take him to the office for Lost Children. Boy, did THAT earn me some crazy looks. Took me almost five minutes of "polite disputation" with the cast member on call to realize that I was holding hands with "The Incredible Invisible Boy!".

Your mind is probably running along the lines of "so...she talks to herself...and sees dead people..." Here are a couple surprises. Yes, there are about half a dozen ghosts in Walt Disney World, which is an astoundingly low number for an area the size of Manhattan. No, I hadn't always had ESP, or whatever it was. I'd always jumped at noises no one else heard, or noticed flashes at the edge of my vision no one else caught, but always chalked it up to an overactive imagination. After a week here, the noises were voices, the flashes people. Was the sudden increase in ability thanks to the time I'd been spending all alone...?

Bah, but more time for theories later. You people are here for a story! I smiled as Peter faded. I could never see them for more then a few minutes at a time but I wistully kept my eyes on the spot where he'd been waiting.

**WHAM! **I walked into a French lamppost and dropped my curry. (Note to self: watch where walking) There were a few laughs around. For half a moment, I was humiliated. But, life is hard. Grinning as wide as I could, I took a deep bow, then dropped a fake curtsey or two. A few people laughed and clapped. We were all happy here. While bent over, I was scanning the ground for the remains of my seven dollar dinner. It wasn't there. I stood up far too fast...

**WHAM! ** At first I thought I'd hit my head so hard the lights went out—then the enthusiastic announcer told me the show was about to start. In that moment, I looked up and into the eyes of an undoubtedly, fantastically attractive Asian man. At least, as far as I could tell. He had a hand over his nose where my head has smashed into his, and a baseball cap shadowed the bits of his face I could see. (He was lucky he didn't lose an eye to one of my pencils) He recovered first.

"_Gomena_...I mean, I'm sorry." He must have been smiling, because his eyes crinkled up as he spoke. At this point, my brain basically shut down. I had just smashed into, and been SPOKEN to by a REAL JAPANESE BOY! (and this is also the point where Fangirl!Megan gets dragged away from the keyboard.) "Are you arright?" he asked. The accent made me want to swoon. Instead, I breathlessly replied,

"Oh, yes, I'm fine thank you and I'm so sorry that I hit you I'm such a klutz can't believe I wasn't watching where you was, sorry, meant where I was..." I took a deep breath, clenched my hand into a fist, and finished off the thought with deliberate pacing. "Going."

"Ah, well, I believe this is yours." He handed me the two paper plates still sandwiching my curry. He must have snatched it out of the air!_ Charming, Megan!_ My brain was screaming at me. _BE CHARMING! _I grabbed the slightly soggy offering with as much grace as I could manage, trying to remember just how many teeth it was polite to show in a smile as I struggled to find what to say next.

"I'm meeting some friends for the fireworks." I managed. "Would you like to join us? We've got seats saved." I pointed.

"Even if I don't watch, it seems someone should walk you there. Guard you from sinister lamp-posts." He drew his hand away and I caught the full force of his smile for the first time. Wow. Wow. I was suddenly painfully away of my frizz, t-shirt, dorky socks, everything I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter...the guy was gorgeous.

I must have said yes.

He grabbed my hand as the first firework burst out above the lake in a brilliant red explosion.

It was the most perfect moment of my life.

...

Too bad that's where I'm pretty sure everything started going wrong.

"Megan!" Cami called out. I came back down to earth, and was startled to realize how fast we'd made it to the gateway. My two friends were waving me down.

"Alright then." My mysterious friend smiled and I felt my impressionable young heart skip another beat. He had dimples. As he turned away, I knew I had one chance to yell after him, one moment that could make or break my future, so I called out-

"_Ohaioo gozaimasu_!" Oh, it was Japanese alright. FOR GOOD MORNING! Ah! Dangit! "um...I..._Oyasumi_."

His smile grew wider, squinching up the corner of his eyes in the most adorable way as he pulled up the bill of his hat. The pyrotechnics from the lake let me see his hair—bleached light. Couldn't tell what color.

"Bye bye." He smiled, waving. He turned back into the crowd, disappearing almost instantly. One final THUMP and I thought my heart might have exploded. I drifted over to Cami and Niki, both already "ooh and aaah"ing over the fireworks. I looked up to the sky, feeling my heart pound in time with every BOOM. My face was hot and NOT from the flames spreading across the lake. All in all, today had been a great success. 50 dollars worth of Byakuya merchandise was in my bag, my dinner had been saved, and I'd just had a magical moment with someone who seemed to have walked right out of my dreams.

That's when the first fat raindrop hit. More followed with rapid ferocity—I fumbled for my umbrella, bracing myself against the crowds that would surely run for shelter. Storms like this in Florida happened all the time.

"Megan? What are you doing?" Cami asked.

"It's raining, silly." I laughed, trying to get my cheap purple umbrella to open.

"Nooo...it's not." Niki said, just as a raindrop hit her in the face.

See? I was right! Now...just..." I trailed off, staring. She didn't flinch as the dark colored drop slowly trickled past her nose. I touched a hand to my own face, wiping away the wetness I'd felt. After a few seconds of darkness, another explosion lit my hand up with gut-clenching clarity. It was red. The sky was raining blood. My neck, already sore from rehearsals, threatened to file a lawsuit as I looked upward.

There, above the lake, above the fireworks was a shimmering smear, dim as the Milky Way. It shifted in color along with the Illuminations show, diving and twisting in a complex dance I could hardly follow. Even as I stared, the smear seemed to sharpen, glinting like metal. The shimmer became countless points of light, fireflies or campfire sparks (or vampires, *snort*). Another spray of blood hissed into the lake just in front of us. My friends were focused on the fireworks, but I couldn't pull my eyes away from what I saw in the sky.

Another huge burst of light—the cool LED globe started floating around the lake. As the swirl of sparkling points swelled to one side, I saw two figures standing on opposite ends of the sky, flashing in and out of sight, crossing from one horizon to the other. It was too far to make out what they were, but a few minutes after each of them passed over, another splatter of the gruesome rain would hit the ground. I stared, mouth open, completely entranced by the spectacle hundreds of feet above the lake. Lightning, then a crack of thunder that drowned out the boom of fireworks announced the arrival of a real storm. Hissing cold rain poured from the sky as both figures began to tumble towards the lake. Squeals and laughter from the guests around me almost overwhelmed the bone shaking scream that made me drop everything I'd been struggling to hold for the past ten minutes.

"_SENBONZAKURA, KAGEYOSHI!_"

They crashed down just a few dozen feet offshore as the world went white.


	2. To Kill a Mockingbird

**_Grisaille_**

Chapter 2

_I'm despicable. A monster. Scum._

_-Kira Izuru, Beginning of the Death of Tomorrow_

Great first chapter, huh? Lots of drama/questions/excitement. Let's take a step back for a moment, sort of a breather from the intense action (Don't worry, we'll return to the blood and gore soon enough) Your opinion of this story is set already. I can hear it now, "Fan-girl meets her favorite Bleach boy-toy, he discovers she's gorgeous/powerful/sexy/not like any other girl he knows!" And you know what? If the title was "Boo-YAH-kuya"/anything to do with the color red/mentions of ice/"OMG! byaxme tru luv lol plz read and rep plzz!1!1!" you would be entirely right. Byakuya would land at my feet dramatically wounded, I would nurse him back to health, discover my long lost soul-reaper heritage, and within a month he would confess his love/kiss me/make out with me/let's keep this T rated/ no seriously get your mind out of the gutter.

This ain't that. Within weeks, Byakuya left without looking back. Megan Grey was barely a blip on his immortal radar. We parted on good terms on a sunny day in a Wal-Mart parking lot. I waved, he didn't, no surprises or tears. I didn't go all "October. . . November. . . December. . . January. . ." once he left either. (mostly because he left in July, but also because I spent the next week being hunted down and slaughtered by a serial killer...but more on that in a few dozen chapters or so.) Why am I putting this in? Because I don't want you to get your hopes up like I did. Because real life works more like that. Also, I wanted to see if you were paying attention when I threw in the serial killer bit. Back to where we left off!

"_SENBONZAKURA KAGIYOSHI_!"

It took me all of 2 seconds to recognize my favorite (note:understatement) Zanpakuto release. By that time, my knees had given out and I was going cross-eyed with the effort to stay conscious. (I didn't have the decency to realize until later my friends were already passed out...along with everyone else in the audience)

"_HAKUTEIKEN_!" _White emporer's sword! The form of Byakuya's Bankai '?_ my inner fangirl squealed. _Shut up! _the rest of me replied before my arms also turned numb and my face hit the pavement. _Trying to BREATHE here. _The blistering fury in his voice was unbelievable-the ECHOES had echos, sound waves slamming over me, crushing me further into the ground. (Cool huh?) The coolness of the moment lasted for only a few more seconds, until my stomach split open from navel to sternum.

No, not literally. Yes, I promised you guts but that was false advertising, sorry!

If I could've still breathed, some serious screaming would have kicked in at this point. Instead , I stopped even trying to pay attention and just curled up into a miserable ball of agony. I'm sure you were looking forward to an awesome fight scene in more of my flavorfully original writing style but sorry. I wasn't actually watching the thing. Hope you understand.

I'm sure it was AWESOME though, what with the fireworks bouncing off of a billion bits of Byakuya's bankai and a whole sonido/shunpo ballet going on out there and yes, a small part of my fangirl brain does indeed to this day cry itself to sleep every night but I really couldn't help it and no one else could either and I'm really just letting this sentence drag on and on, sidetracking myself because I don't have the self confidence to tell you I was puking my guts out. Oh. Never mind, that was easy.

If you're really dying for some good descriptions, most of what I can give you involves chunks of curry mixed with the apples and peanut butter I ate for lunch. Even if my neck were still listening to orders from my brain (Which it wasn't. It ran out the door along with my ability to stand and my bladder control but NOBODY wants details on that) it was raining too hard for me to see anyhow. I could hear just fine, though. Not like I could help it-it would be impossible to block out the bone shaking howls from whatever thing Byakuya was (_BYAKUYA, MEGAN!_ Fangirl again, sorry, but _BYAKUYA WAS RIGHT THERE!1!1!_!) fighting. Especially after I passed out as well. Then it was impossible for me to see at all.

This all happened really, really fast. Like "in the time it takes you to read this sentence, Megan was out for the count". However, "By the time you read THIS sentence probably 5 or 6 times, she was back again." I mean, the 10 minute long fireworks were still going when I awoke in my charming puddle of rainwater, puke and pee. The white hot pain in my abs had dimmed to a sort of 60 watt sear, probably the only reason my brain could summon up the courage to start working again. I rolled over and let the pouring rain (Welcome to Sunny Florida!) rinse the crap off of my face. I craned my neck around trying to figure out what was happening and if survival was a possibility. I would have told myself it was a dream, but I can't smell in dreams. Also, dreams can only hurt so much before you wake up and I was pretty sure I'd passed that threshold already.

My stomach, although much less painful, continued to do it's hernia impression. Girls, think about PMS cramping times a million. Boys, I have no way to explain this to you. Wincing, I tried to roll over one more time (awaaay from the puddle o' crud) but just ended up curling back into my ball. There was an eerie clarity to the music and a strange silence after the thunder of the rockets red glare. No oohs or aahs from the crowd. Keeping one fist clenched against my belly button, I shakily got back on my hands and knees. Looking back out towards the lake, I saw something that made my heart once again shudder to a stop. This time, however, very little pain was involved.

Alright, here is the only truly romantic moment in this whole chapter, so I'll give it my best.

Knee deep in the lagoon's shallows, backlit by fountaints and flame, Kuchiki Byakuya stood. Shards of white, which I assumed to be the remains of his kensiekan, were tangled in the black hair plastered to his face and neck by rain and blood. An avenging angel crippled by battle, Byakuya sloshed clumsily towards shore, one crimson-drenched arm dangling uselessly at his side, the other trailing his sealed Zanpakuto in the water behind him. He wasn't wearing a sheath or even a belt of any kind...alright, the romance gets overtaken by my fangirling at this point because he also _wasn't _wearing most of his shirt. His pants were doing their duty, but only just. Lots of tatters were involved, gashes in the fabric that matched gashes in flesh pouring out blood. My dream-come-true's focus was on the ground. He made it to shore, taking a few staggering steps sideways before stabbing Senbonzakura into the ground. Byakuya needed help. And I was the only person available. You have any idea the sort of THRILLS that sent through me?

(Here, the romance ends. Trouble starts.)

I tried to gracefully hop over the guard rope/chain thing and failed. Thank you, wet grass. Getting to my feet once more, I staggered forward some more, probably looking just as drunk as him. A sudden fountain of firework stars blasted up from the torch beyond. Byakuya must have not seen me until this moment-he straightened, wrenched his sword from the sand, and pointed it at me. You have any idea the sort of TERROR this sent through me? I stuck my hands in the air as another golden white blast went off. He can't have seen me very well though, since the third blast let me see he was cross-eyed and the point of his sword was weaving back and forth. Before the shimmers faded, the Zanpakuto fell to the ground. It's owner looked seriously in danger of following.

I jumped forward, thinking that my slightly-fluffy five foot two figure was enough to catch and support a six foot something samurai. Remember how the romantic moment is long over? Yeah, I slipped and fell on my butt (Good think it wasn't the Zanpakuto, eh?), slid down the inclined shore like a slip and slide, and slammed into his shins. A multitude of white flares shot up, fireworks gearing up for the finale, and Byakuya fell to his very bony knees directly on top of me. He was unconscious and very, very heavy. Also wet. And heavy. And beautiful. And heavy. For a moment, my hand hovered in the air as I considered brushing the sharp white bits from his hair. I thought better of it and decided to try and restore the blood flow to my legs instead. An explosion of thunder coincided with another spattering of my heart beats as a collective gasp went up from around the lake. This was followed by a multitude of groans, screams, questions and curses. There was an audience once again. I tried to stand, or even just to shift the sudden dead weight pinning me down as the clamor continued. Closing my eyes, I shoved with all my might ignoring the pain shooting through my core. A huge "THWOOM" of freezing cold air blasted past. My eyes flew open. _What on earth? That's never been in the show before._

The audience fell eerily quiet once again, just in time for the final burst of color, heat and chords. Then the nightly enthusiastic applause thundered from around the showcase lagoon. Cheers, whistles, and clapping was all I heard from every side-definitely NOT what you'd expect from a crown who'd just regained group consciousness after a collective pass out stealing a good 5 minutes of their lives.

"Um." I tried to shove the dead weight off me again...and decided to end the chapter here.

I'm sorry, but my funeral would have been today and they won't let me go and watch. And, after spending hours imagining the family and friends I'll never see again cry over my casket, I have to admit my heart just isn't into writing a good cliffhanger. (even though two seconds later, there was the opportunity for a pretty good one) I hope you're still interested enough to read on. Things do get better for you from here on out! And by that, I mean worse for me you sick, sick masochistic audience you.

* * *

_Amciel here! Chapter 2 is finally up and I'm hoping for chapter 3 to follow in a week. Reading is appreciated, reviews are given a good home, flames are reviewed with fairness then stuck in the fireplace to make the good home for the reviews a little more cozy. A few questions I'd like readers to answer-_

_How is my chapter length? Should they be longer/shorter?_

_Are the block paragraphs just too long? (note:if they are, this problem will probably be fixed once Megan starts talking to someone other then herself.)_

_Do you like this title or the last one better?_


	3. It Never Rains

**_Grisaille Chapter 3_**

**It Never Rains**

_"It's my fault everyone will die." _

_Kurosaki Ichigo, Death and the Strawberry._

Much could be said about the trek through Epcot to Cami's car none of it pleasant or important. It was wet, I was miserable, my Byakuya "backpack" was basically comatose, and I'm pretty sure my contract not to talk about Disney's backstage area is still binding even after death. I tried to keep my posture upright despite adding on 500 pounds or whatever he weighed. This made for some...strain. While pulling his arms tighter over my shoulders, I sent up a few silent prayers that my old hernia from back in the good ol' high school days wouldn't pop back open or get new friends. The storm was actually helpful at this point-Cami and Niki were huddled under my umbrella just ahead. They'd seemed to buy that I wanted to walk in the rain. (Since they'd seen me run around barefoot during the thunderstorm our first day here, I don't think they thought twice about it.) There was only one really dicey part that had me worried; the security check. As employees we had to let the backstage guard check our belongings before entering or leaving. Slipping off my real backpack while keeping Byakuya upright was a trick most people would've paid to see. Haha. But, I made it through. They usually stopped you to look through your bags of merchandise...and since I'd left mine behind (Crap) with my backpack (Double Crap) I passed through quickly. At least my id was still on my lanyard.

After the typical cliche eternity, the car was finally in sight. Then it was in sight for another one of those eternity things as we trekked through yet more of the drowning rain. Why are the Disney parking lots so HUGE? Niki and Cami were understandably rushing. I hastened as best I could, thinking fondly of carefree days when I would run ahead and beat them to the car. Pft. Yeah, like that was going to happen. I geared up to try a burst of speed and nearly face planted when Byakuya stood on his own two feet.

I staggered, jumped forward, spun around, and froze. He shook his head, eyes closed tight against the rain. I had a wonderful moment of breathlessness again before he staggered into me and collapsed again. My back popped in 3 places. (and it felt like his weight tripled. Just saying.) _Well...that was a good sign, right?_ I wondered. _Í mean, he's still alive, right? Right?_ By the time I'd regained my balance and re-situated the awkward carrying situation, Cami was in the driver's seat and Niki was opening the rear door.

"WAIT!" I shrieked. "I want the backseat!"

"Megan, you usually squeal 'shotgun' when we're a hundred feet from the car." Niki said.

"Well...yeah." No use denying the truth. "But I want the backseat tonight." Byakuya was slipping and with both friends watching, I couldn't hoist him back up. Somehow I managed to catch and pin his arms around my waist making it look like I was just randomly clasping my hands behind my back. (Byakuya!fannypack iz fashion tell ur freindz) Niki slid easily into the front seat. I didn't have quite so much fun getting into the back while dragging him in behind me. It was hard to find a handhold. He was slippery from rain and blood. I was SO grateful for the darkness as I hooked both hands through what was left of his belt and heaved. He made really, really painful noises. Bit more then groans, not quite crying, and DEFINITELY heart wrenching. No more signs of him waking up again, though. I couldn't decide if that was good or not.

"Hey, wanna start up some music?" I asked. I needed a distraction while I tried to arrange a basically dead body in a more comfortable position.

"Go ahead and pick." She passed me back the ipod. I quickly scrawled through the menu, picking a band with loads of base and drums and screaming.

I couldn't tell the difference between where he was cut and bleeding or just covered in blood. I tried my best to be delicate, and he must have been unconscious, but he still whimpered. (Fangirl rose up once more and I didn't have the strength to beat her down) I got his feet on the floor, his head in my lap, and the rest of him on the seat by the time we reached the highway. Sighing with as much silence as I could manage, I leaned back against the seat for a minute and closed my eyes. There was chatter from the front which I joined in with a few times, but mostly I listened to Byakuya trying to breathe. NOT the most relaxing sound in the world. Went something like this-

1. A very long, shuddereing, uneven gasp.

2. *pause*

3. Quick and gurgling exhale.

4. repeat 1.

5. double length of 2

6. repeat step 2

7. repeat step 5

8. Finally, FINALLY exhale

It was a 30 minute drive from Epcot to the interns' housing complex and I've never spent a more stressful half hour. (despite the fact I was stroking his hair. Don't judge me.) I was holding my own breath in sympathy most of the time and hyperventilating the rest. I mean, what now! My inner fangirl had long since passed out (wuss) and the rest of me was facing a rather serious mess. So I'd dragged a fictional character from a lake to the car. Big whoop! Where was I going to keep him? What did I expect to happen next? (fangirl raised her head long enough to gasp out "trueee loooove" ) How was he going to react? _How would I hide him?_ What was he fighting and would it come BACK for him? Why did my stomach still cramp like the worst week of the month? How...

...how did I get out of the lake?

Goosebumps ran up and down my arm. I promised you a cliffhanger to start this chapter, remember? I forgot to add this in. Well, it was a security guard asking me what I was doing past the safety ropes, and I was panicking and...I can't remember. I honestly cannot remember what happened there. Um...the guard said "Excuse me miss, what are you doing?" and then- Blank. Real life cliffhanger that never gets solved. Creeped out? I was. Still am. That's a good ten minute chunk of my memory MISSIING. I don't know how I got him past the rope, what I said to Cami and Niki to convince them to leave the park, why I even decided taking him to my apartment was a GOOD idea.

_First things first, Megan. _I told myself._ Finish getting him home. Then you can figure out what to do next. When you've run out of things to do next, you may then panic. Deal?_

That's the moment where Cami parked the car and I forgot to try and remember what I'd forgotten. I haven't thought of that gap in time until THIS moment, when I've apparently forgotten it once again...um. Well, it can't be that important! Back to the story!

Since it was after 9 and she lived in another complex, Cami and her wonderful people-mover couldn't pass the security gate. This meant Niki, me and Byakuya had to get out here. Niki's building was fairly close to the front-after showing her card to the guard, she had maybe 100 feet to walk until home.

Remember in Disney's Cinderella when the mice have to get that ridiculously heavy key to dear old Cindy locked in the tower? They drag and pull and push and drag the thing up a flight of marble stairs. Jaq tells Gus "Lookit! Almost there!" and poor, poor fat Gus looks up to see an endless wooden, splintery spiral staircase still waiting. Guess who can sympathize with him? My building was in the far corner of the property, by the fitness center. And by far corner, I mean you could see the place where the high iron gate with nice barbed wire along the top intersected with the lovely trees providing the west wall. Refastening my Byakuya!fannypack, I went through my 2nd security check of the night, smiling wide and walking fast as I had only seconds to hold up my id before losing my grip.

More unimportant, uninteresting walking that I actually remember every second of, unlike the other. (seriously, that's going to bug me.) The rain slowed from a downpour to a drizzle before giving up for the night. Luckily, this was one of the times I had remembered my key. I carefully let Byakuya slide to the ground while I dug into my pocket. Even though our apartment had 4 beds, only three girls had moved in. The other two were in a room together and I'd lucked out to get one to myself. None of us worked the same hours and it wasn't at all unusual not to see Nicole or Ralynne for days at a time. I hoped this was one of those days as I hooked my arms through his and hoisted, banging the door into the wall as I dragged him over the threshold. Passing through the bathroom on the way to my bedroom, I tried and failed to get the switch with an elbow. Fate also chose this moment to let me trip over a shoelace and fall on my butt AGAIN, this time cracking my tailbone on the tile floor. For a second, I thought about just leaving him there. Then I realized how awkward things would get if he regained consciousness when I had to pee so he was drug the final stretch into my white walled, green-carpeted fortress of solitude. Don't get me wrong, it was fantastic to have a huge bathroom to myself and the spare bed was a wonderful spare shelf but at night...sorry, I'm whining. More story! Despite living in this room for almost a month, I had yet to buy hangers. All of my Sunday clothes and business attire lay in rainbows on the empty bed up against the left wall.

Since I couldn't even reach out for the light switch, I had no hope of sweeping my nice things out of the way. With a final grunt from both of us, Byakuya collapsed onto the spare bed. The super comfy, extra expensive mattress (note:sarcasm) groaned louder then either I or the squad six captain had the entire trek back. A few more pushes from me, and he was laying flat on his back, more blood already spreading outward in dark stains. (Candy to whomever guesses the quote: "Who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him?" I'm serious. Candy!) I winced my way over to my bed, swiping my pillow and small afghan. Besides the butterfly sheets covering my mattress, these were the only bedding I had. Pausing to yank off my prized blue and green tie dye pillowcase, I draped the afghan over him and carefully set the pillow under his head. For a moment, I almost laughed that I cared more about that stupid, stupid tie dye case then I did about the nice half of my wardrobe. Moment passed quickly because then the "Ow, Tired!" hit me all at once.

My muscles began some sort of sick, twitching victory dance as I let myself bellyflop on the floor. I'd done it. Trying to slow my panting gasps, I just streeeeeetched out my aching arms, abs and back. And calves. Oh, and I think I had shinsplints too. PLUS my butt hurt, but that was probably from falling down. One big inhale, and I rolled onto my back, looking over at the no-longer-spare bed as I ignored more stomach pains.

A yellow light pulsed outside; the security golf-cart, pargo thingy making it's endless nighttime rounds. In the dim flashes, I contemplated exactly who and what was lying a few feet away. The pain and grossness of the past forty minutes went a long way in silencing fangirl. _Alrighty then. Now what?_ Fantastic nerd and dutiful Girls Camp Junior Leader that I was, first aid was not an unknown territory. It was, however, limited to things like burns and broken arms. First aid says "Don't move the victim, stop the bleeding, and wait for help." Phail. Byakuya was gashed open. Slashed open. Cut waaaaay open with a SWORD. Across his chest, a few ribs were showing. I had no idea what to do about that! All of the serious medical training I had basically came from M*A*S*H reruns and my "House M.D." obsession. He'd ended the fight in a bad way and I'm POSITIVE that Iron Man Marathon I went through to get him back here only made it worse. _What if...what if he died?_ That would sort of crush my fangirl hopes in the "Greatest love this world or the next has ever known" department.

As I tried to convince my arms _no, you are not jelly, and yes, you should push me up_ I listened hard to the apartment's quiet. It was the silence of "You're the only one home" rather then "Ralynne and Nicole are sleeping." for which I was grateful. _First things fininished_-I got Byakuya to the apartment. _First things next? _For a moment I kept still, trying to decide whether I stank or hurt more. Stink won and I crawled out of my room and into a very long, very hot shower with all my clothes on.

Pulling off my nasty, grubby, gory ensemble was not much fun. I rinsed each garment out best as I could, wringing out water time and time again before it ran clear, hanging them over the shower curtain rod. My drain didn't work well at all and I was soon up to my ankles in crimson, chunky water. (So long, tasty, tasty curry I will never look at the same way again) _First things first.-get clean _The mantra was doing a great deal of help in the "no panicking" department. It took a long time and about three handfuls of shampoo before I was satisfied all blood and puke was scrubbed out of my hair. That's when I attacked the rest of me with a loofah and half a bar of soap. The blood only I could see took a long time to wash off, like the water and soap from the transient world didn't really affect it. This was possibly the first shower in which I couldn't even THINK about singing.

A few minutes later, I was wrapped in a towel and tiptoeing back to my room. Moments after that, the towel was wrapped around my hair and I was wearing my huge rainbow tie dye shirt which brushed my aching knees as I tip-toed to the dark kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the dishwasher, I flipped the sink on. My glass was half full (or empty) when I thought better of this plan. AND just a few _more _minutes later, there was a dishtowel wrapped around the pint of half-eaten Chocolate Cookie dough ice-cream in my hand as I plopped down on my bed with a squeaky crash, a notebook, pen, and spoon.

Our apartment windows had those vertical lines that need the twisty dowel thing to open. They were turned half open at the moment, and I stared into the parking lot beyond. Behind our building was the nice view-lawns and gazebos and a barbeque. My room just looked over a bunch of empty spaces. The blue of night was un-charmingly mixed with orange street lights, but it gave me enough light to write by. I slurped on a huge spoonful of heaven as I stared out the window, trying to put some of my crazy thoughts in order. On a little island of trees amidst the asphalt, one of the rare feral cats pawed at something in the grass, probably one of the billions of lizards that ran around Florida. _You're avoiding, Megan. _I sighed, scooping out another big chunk of happiness with my left hand while grasping the pen with my right.

Questions I wrote it out slowly, deliberately, with a double underline. Somehow I resisted the urge to write my name and the date on top of the paper. Finally, I opened the floodgate on all of the questions and scribbled them out as fast as they came to mind.

_How is this possible? Can you handle this? Did you finally snap from loneliness/homesickness and your in some strange Oz coma? If he dies, that would be easy because he'll just dissolve, right? Like Kaien, Yoda. What will you do if he lives? High reiatsu means hunger. Can he eat earth food? You live off of toast and cereal. Can you afford to feed him? Does he actually speak Japanese or did Kubo make that up? Do YOU Speak Japanese? Did Kubo make ANY of this up? Byakuya is here. Is Bleach all real? Is Soul Society-_

My meandering train of thought screeched to a violent halt. My eyes were goggling at the page, horrified by what I'd almost written. _Is Soul Society what happens after death?_

Byakuya's breathing became unbearably loud as my own stopped. The ache in my stomach flared from pain to nausea. Slowly, I looked over at the row of books occupying my dresser. Japanese textbooks, a dictionary of the same flavor, the few novels from my personal library I couldn't bear to leave home in Utah...and my scriptures. They'd been a birthday present a few years ago (Or was it Christmas?) Beautiful blue binding, with my name embossed in a tasteful cursive, silver script across the front, the contents embossed in the same font on the binding, my silk blue ribbon planted firmly in Isaiah. Without looking down at the notebook, I scrawled a final line. _Why wasn't that your first question?_

_First things first, Megan._ I reminded myself, taking in another of those wonderful deep breaths. I couldn't ask Byakuya about the food and fist aid and...other stuff unless I could actually ask him questions. Time for a crash course refresher. I crawled to the end of my squeaky bed and reached out towards the far red textbook-Japanese, the spoken language, 101. My hand froze as I realized just what I'd been using for a bookend. I scrambled off the mattress, heedless of the complaints from both the boxsprings and my butt as panic took over for the first time.

First things VERY FIRST. I had to hide my Byakuya doll.

* * *

Amciel here! Doing my best to get one chapter out a week, but that may change to week and a half. I'm trying to keep Megan's voice light and cheerful through the whole thing but I will warn you some very dark subject matter will be handled in this story. As always, thank you for reading.

Grisaille!angst iz fun tell ur frienz!

carrietheninja-Your heartfelt LONG reviews are the highlights of my week!

Shiro Chan-Miss ur guts. Come visit me!

diecomposer or however you spell your username (Sorry!) this text massage was just for you. Of course, I might type them out faster if we didn't get sidetracked on facebook...


	4. No Justice Just Us

**_Grisaille Chapter 4_**

_No Justice. Just Us_

_"Those who are different are cursed. I don't know how it is otherwise, but at least in this world that's how it works." - Abuelo Sado- Right arm of the giant_

After falling off the couch for the fifth time and crashing into the coffee table for the third, in was unanimously decided by all my aching bits that we were getting no more sleep tonight. I hadn't even tried to close my eyes until midnight rolled around-and after studying Japanese for 4 hours, I DARE you to keep 'em open. I kept drifting off mid-sentence then startling myself awake with dreams of blood spattered gore-mostly Byakuya's, but the last few had been a disturbing reprise starring yours truly. (And interestingly enough, in Japanese with subtitles. Go figure) Sometime during my short naps, Nicole and Ralynne had come home and gone to bed. I could hear peaceful, nightmare free breathing coming from their room. Knowing my Carrie-esque dreams weren't likely to lay off, I did my best impression of a rhumetic old woman as I hobbled to the kitchen. The more I moved, the more my muscles loosened up, a good if painful sign. The pain in my pancreas area had yet to diminish, though. Since my ice-cream was (sadly) long gone I fell into my usual "Bella Swan, Mighty Huntress" routine and poured a bowl of cereal crumbs.

I tossed the now empty box towards the trash. Blinded by the fridge light, I grabbed the gallon of milk that was most probably mine. The digital clocks on the microwave and stove, despite being 5 minutes off of each other, both declared it was too early in the morning to even be alive, early enough that "Late last night" might still apply. Munching the remains of "part of this complete breakfast" I crept back to the living room. I sat on the floor instead of returning to the couch, setting my cereal on the coffee table, leaving one arm free to press against my burning guts. It didn't do much good. Ow.

In just five hours, there was a bus to Disney's Animal Kingdom with my name on it. (Not really-it actually had a big "J" in the window. That would take me to a wonderfully magical work day that would last until 6 pm. Moving the SPOON hurt. How was I going to get through 8 hours of-

_Stop whining. _I told myself, chewing another mouthful of tasty sludge. _Cowboy up._ There was a pause in my mental conversation, like my practical side was taking in a breath before speaking again. _Think of it as the Game. _There should have been an ominous thunder roll or I should have shivered or at least glanced down at the inside of my left arm, or BLINKED or something. Instead, I just took another bite and agreed with myself. I hadn't played the Game for awhile. Fun times.

For awhile, there was just munchy-crunchy quiet. Then, far too soon, the cereal was gone. Then the milk was gone. The spoon was scraping the clean edges of the bowl. I had to pee. The floor was comfy. The door to my bedroom was closed but if I listened hard, a few wheezes let me know the love-of-my-life-so-far was still among the living-or as close as a Shinigami is to living, anyhow. He needed help. Some delightful butterflies in my stomach batted their wings uselessly against the crampy-burny mess taking up residence there. I guess that help would have to be me...but it had to wait until I got home that night. What if he died while I was at work? Or WORSE, woke up and left! Gosh, no justice in the world, is there?

"True story." I muttered. After rinsing out my bowl, I crept into my room taking only a few moments to admire the hunk of...wow. Fangirl still alive and well at this point. My 101 text book wasn't enough for what I wanted to do. I grabbed my Japanese to English dictionary, a few more textbooks and a kanji dictionary as well. Nicole, my apartment mate, had a pretty white Mac that was plugged into the internet...some Babel fish couldn't hurt. Besides, she had said I could use the thing whenever I needed it. (My own computer, a lovely HUGE windows 98 pc called Big Bertha was gathering dust at home 2000 miles away)

The next 5 hours were spent alternately flipping through my stack of books, scribbling chickenscratch kanji in my notebook, and googling everything from camping accidents to war medics duirng WWII. Neatly scribing out a paragraph of explanation in the best kanji I could manage, and leaving the note on the small chest of drawers by Byakuya's bed (just in case...just in case) it was 8:15-this left me just enough time to write out a...grocery list. And when the J bus pulled up at 8:30, I was on it, grinning and bearing, ready for a day full of Games.

* * *

(And now, we fast forward through a full day of Disney Magic I'm not allowed to talk about! It's not important to the story anyhow-I'll give you a 3 word summary. 1. Ow. 2. *gasp* 3. Grin. Yeah yeah, fun times)

* * *

An eternity after that bus ride, I twitched a hand loaded down with plastic grocery bags in farewell to Cami. I tried to raise it-I really did!- but I couldn't lift it higher then my belt. They were heavy and my guts still burned. Still, I was winning the Game.

"See ya!" I called out. She waved, if not so cheerfully as I, than zoomed off. It was a stroke of luck Cami had the night off AND agreed to drive...too bad now she was probably ticked at me. Thanks to me prowling the aisles looking for the ridiculous and apparently random things I'd listed out early this morning, I'd rushed like a chicken with its head cut off all around the Wal-Mart. She'd had to text me three times and call my phone twice after I disappeared to go after something like fishing line or bananananananas...I never know when to stop spelling that word. I'd fended off her questions and weird looks during check out, and I now set out towards home by the light of the setting sun.

ID around my neck, I smiled at security as I trudged past with an unbearable load for the second night in a row. Behind my grin, I muttered random phrases of Japanese, trying to re-cement a year's worth of college in my blonde-tinged brain. Sleep deprivation was starting to catch up with me and my arms were burning. Still, grocery bags were a lot easier to set down and pick up then a dead body-and I did have to do just that every 20 feet or so.

Progress was slow, but on the bright side it was a beautiful sunset. The sky had rained itself out earlier in the afternoon. I was home earlier then expected, despite my shopping ADD. There was a 17% chance Byakuya might still be alive when I got home, too. My bags jostled, clanked and sloshed as I pondered that happy thought. Pausing to rest for the fifth time, I was pleased to note I'd made it ALL the way to the END of the BLOCK! Hooray! The rest of me was not so happy. In fact, the "Union of Megan's Limbs" were demanding their dues and every check my brain wrote out to them bounced. Like superballs.

Still, I had to get back. Two more clusters of buildings, the mail gazeebo, a few diagonal cuts over the lawns and I'd be there. Taking in my favorite thing (a deep breath) I threaded my rubbery arms through the bag loops one more time. To distract my brain from the "poor and huddled masses" I mentally checked the contents of my bag against the list on my phone for the umpteenth time.

_Eggs_

_Bread_

_Milk_

ow. Ow. Aw, dangit I forgot painkillers. How could I have forgotten that?

_Cereal_

_Superglue _

Just make it to that bush. You can get as far as the bush, right?

_rubbing alchohol_

_Lysol_

_Cereal_

Once in the store, I had deleted the second _cereal _and replaced it with _tasty food_, followed by _weekly indulgences_. Those didn't actually have to go on the list-no WAY would I have forgotten those. Every week without fail, I purchased a book,a bag of peanut M&Ms and a bridal magazine. :) Don't judge me.

_bandages?_

Instead, purchased 2 sets of white sheets at 4 bucks each. Bargain!

_gloves_

_curved needles_

stroke of luck there. Who knew quilting used those? Hey, you made it past the bush! Keep going.

_bananananas (I never know when to stop spelling that word)_

_cereal_

_fishing line_

It had been a Very Respectable Looking list, I thought, with much more detail then I usually go into. AND I'd picked up a few more things that had struck my eye in the pharmacy aisles. (Although I had blasted past a certain few shelves without looking. _That_ part of the Game was something I'd sworn never to touch again.) At this point, the "Union" chose to go on strike. I plopped down on the nearest patch of grass which instantly soaked the seat of my pants. Still, the distraction had worked-I'd made it all the way to the charming mail gazeebo. The bags had left frightful red creases up and down my arms. I stretched my legs straight in front of me and spent lots of effort trying to touch my toes. Normally I could set my forehead on my knees no problem. I left my eyes drift closed and my breath whoosh out trying to deepen the stretch. I was interrupted by an accent tinted voice from above.

"In distress again? What a high demand damsel." Trying to sit up, look up, stand up, gather up, pick up and cheer up at the same time produced a mass of unpleasant experiences culminating in my face smiling and the rest of me throwing a screaming hissy fit.

Cute Japanese boy from last night strode through the wet grass towards me, laughing. What with all the film worthy drama suddenly starring me, it was understandable that I'd forgotten him. The smile on his face and the heat in my cheeks told me that probably wasn't the case with him. _You're dreaming, Megan. He's grinning because you're pants are soaked and you've once again displayed you have the grace of a cat. Blind cat. With three legs. On ice. On fire. Wearing socks. _Before my tangent factory could get more out of hand, I steadied my smile and spoke. Yesterday had been an embarrassment-but I had practiced since then.

_"Konban wa_!" Good evening. Right on the first try. "_Genki desu ka?_" Are you doing well?

His smile didn't widen, but his eyes crinkled a little more. The sun had gone down, taking color out of the world and his hair. My breath caught slightly, but I'm not sure if that was because he was cute or I hurt.

"Ah! So you do know Japanese? Oh, I mean _eh_." He replied. "_Genki desu. Arigato_." That little tilt to his head combined with a suddenly serious deep voice was teasingly adorable. I laughed and he did the same. Then he said _lots _of Japanese very fast-I caught perhaps three words, including "ka" at the very end. He'd just asked me a question...dangit.

"Ano..." Confusion reigned. He laughed again! Gosh, maybe I was charming after all.

"No, I'm sorry." He switched to English. "I've got a bit of an accent. You probably couldn't understand."

"Don't think it's that." I sheepishly admitted. "I've only been studying for a year. I don't know all that much yet."

"You know enough to answer my question. Only a year, huh?" He winked and I about died. "Let me help you with those." He reached out to take half of my bags and then some. "Megan's Union" began to cheer. As a thin, thread-wrapped braid fell over his shoulder the happiness level fell slightly. Also, some metal glinted by his ear. My inner "I am so attracted to you dial" took a twitch towards turning off, although I stubbornly kept it on. Long hair and peircings-2 of the top 5 things I am not attracted to. B_ut he's JAPANESE, Megan! And it's like a Jedi braid anyway-bet it's a clip in. _I tried to get a better look at the earring-a thin gold ring connected to a fine chain that went all the way to his belt. _Chains? Aw, come on! This isn't fair! _

_Noooo...what's not fair is you judging soely on appearance! Turn down the "Molly" attitude for a few minutes and let "Margaret" out for a change. He's carrying your groceries. Even the NICE boys you know don't do that._

"So...do you want me to help you out or not?" He interrupted my train of thought.

"Huh?" _Margaret's only allowed out on dates anyway._ I reminded myself. _Besides, did you happen to forget you already have a fantasy come true waiting for you at home?_

"You've just been standing there staring at me."

Oh! I'm sorry!" I waved my now free hand in the air. "Inner monologue. Never mind."

"Inner what?"

"Nothing." Following my lead, we set off across the lawn. To my immense pleasure, he resumed our conversation in Japanese.

^Where did you study?^

^Brigham Young University. Far west of here. 2,000 miles.^ There were bare paths cut diagonally across the grass where so many college students took shortcuts nothing grew anymore.

^Have you been to Japan?^

^Not yet. Three years from now, I plan to go. After graduation.^ If I could save up the money, that is. But I didn't add that last thought...I wasn't sure how to say it in Japanese.

^Really? Wonderful! Perhaps we'll meet there!^

^Where in Japan are you from?^

^The south. I'm not sure you would know where.^ I don't know which made me happier-that he was speaking to me in Japanese, or that I could actually reply. Far too soon, we made it to the door. I fished my key from my pocket (Luckily this was yet another day I had remembered to take it with me) Our entry way led straight into the kitchen-I quickly shut the door leading to my bathroom and thence to my bedroom.

With a final crishy-crinkle, the bags were unloaded onto the kitchen counter. As I turned to thank him, and pondered how I would get rid of him from here, I got a good look at him in the light for the first time. Everything he wore screamed _money._ Everything in my head screamed _why is this guy talking to us? _His hair was probably supposed to be blonde, but had started out dark-it ended up silver. The tuft of hair at the end of his "jedi" braid was reddish-he probably had a million dye jobs already.

^Again, you're staring.^

"Oh, I'm sorry!" He just nodded. We stood there. "I mean, thank you very much." English now, hoping he would take the hint. More nodding. More standing. I could only let the silence go on so long. I mean, there was something rather important waiting for me in the other room.

"Shall I help you unload the bags?"

"Oh, nope." I waved a hand at the forest of white handles. "I'm sure I can-" Too late. He'd opened the first one. In a flurry, I began to clear away bags before he could get to the Indulgences...but I couldn't find them! Too many bags!

"Is Japanese your major," he asked," or are you going to be a doctor?"

"No, it's animation, I...pardon me?"

"All of this..." he started pulling out my crazy purchases-the surgical handwash (lucky find), gloves, 6 bottles of saline wound cleanser, alcohol swabs...isn't Walmart the greatest?

"Oh, hurricane season." I blithely replied, the same excuse I'd given Cami when she asked. "I like to be prepared."

"Prepared for what? Opening a hospital?" He laughed now rummaging through the bag holding the fishing line, anti-inflammatories, and superglue.

"Oh, for anything. Luck favors the prepared." I jammed my food and milk into the pockets of space in the fridge, trying to think of a delicate way to make him leave. This is when "Margot" seized control of the brain. "Hey, thank you for your help, but I've got things I need to do. Would you mind leaving?"

"Not at all. _Oyasumi._" He paused only long enough to wave, to pass on one last smile, before he closed the door. _That was...fast. _I blinked a few times, completely disarmed. I'd had a stack of excuses waiting in the wings that shambled back to their respective green rooms, grumbling the whole way. For a moment, I wondered...

The shock over how quickly he walked out was enough to root my feet to the floor. That's when my sore stomach spasmed, cramping so hard it brought the REST of me down as well. Ralynne was at work until 11 tonight, and Nicole until 2am. This gave me the liberty to do the following-

"Oh, MAN! OW! OW! OOOW! Son of a…motherless…GOAT!" Allowing myself to squeal for the first time all day didn't do as much help as I hoped. I slapped my hand against the floor, pressed my forehead to the cold tile, curled into a ball, stretched out flat, clutched at my abs, pulled on my hair, smacked the dishwasher... It took a few minutes of shallow breathing before the thing let up. There were some tears, but not for the pain. I could take the pain. It was the fact that I just didn't know when the pain would STOP.

Well, might as well do something useful while on the floor. I pulled out our huge soup pot and a smaller sauce pan. Staggering to the sink, I flipped the faucet on all the way to start it filling them up. Packaging was ripped open, things were sorted out, banananananana was grabbed, fishing line measured and cut, bags stuffed into the garbage, food put away, pots put on stove, bridal magazine added to the stack in my room, entire bag of M&Ms downed like a shot...and Byakuya's breathing got checked. He was still alive yet STILL bleeding.(and gorgeous)

"Honestly?" I muttered, carefully sliding one of the clean sheets underneath him and ripping up another into what I hoped were uniform strips. "HONESTLY? How much blood does a Shinigami HAVE?"

Back to the kitchen, I took my irritation out on the unlucky banananananananana (sorry) selected to be my cadaver. Grabbing the apartment's only sharp knife, I slashed the rubbery yellow victim open from stem to stern. The water on the stove was boiling-I threw in the roll of fishing line, the pliers, and 2 of the 3 needles into the smaller pot. One of the curved instruments I left out, along with a long string of the line, the thinnest I could buy.

Nicole's laptop still had the window open I needed-a how to for stitching up wounds in case of an emergency. It had been recommended to practice on bananas. I had 20 minutes before the stuff in the pot was sanitized, 20 minutes to learn how to save a life.

Ok. Alright. I could do this. I could do this. I could do this.

So...the blustering determination that had carried me through the day chose THIS moment to say "Never mind."

I couldn't do this.


	5. First, Do No Harm

**Chapter 5**

_**First, Do No Harm**_

_Tell me you hate me most in this world—volume 33 poem_

Well, I've started out this chapter seven different ways and been unsatisfied with each. There are certain emotional reactions I need to pull from you and really don't know how. The ready wit I typically employ isn't...well, ready, for lack of a better word. There really isn't a lighthearted way to detail eight hours of stitches, horrifying discoveries, and impossible moments. Yep. No typos in that last sentence. Eight hours. 8 hours spent on—

Arg. See, that's just about as far as I've gotten on the other chapter starts before becoming dissatisfied with my ramble. Perhaps it's time I filled you people in on just why I'm handing over this insight into my thoughts.

Megan Grey is being (for lack of a better word once more) deleted. I've been given this fantastic opportunity to relay the details of my last few weeks among the living and have been promised it will be left behind somewhere my family and friends could find it if they _really_ looked. I'm not sure where or how—it would probably be treated as another of my crazy creative stories, more fanfic then memoir. Hey, there's an idea! Maybe I'll suggest it'll be posted to my account…but again, I ramble. See, I'm not sure if my jolly tone has distracted you or not but about 2 dozen chapter from now I die. In agony. Lots of blood, screaming, the works. And that's where Megan Grey's story must end. Poof. I'm gone. Forever.

That's why I'm not holding stuff back. That's why you'll get details on the Game, on why I obsess over fictional men, and why I never stop smiling, because once I stop existing these things won't disgust me anymore and I won't care if you know the truth. But at the same time…there are some moments I almost can't bring myself to write out—moments so intimately dear to my heart I almost want them to disappear as well, because I can't stand the thought of anyone else treasuring them. Moments that even now tug at the few heartstrings I've yet to cut.

Moments I don't want the King's Key to take away.

Moments like this—looking into Byakuya's eyes for the first time as I wash blood off his face.

PSYCH! You know I could never stay serious for long, right? And I know your eyes are rolling or you're having a small chuckle because after that collection of morbid, emo paragraphs I top the whole sorry sundae off with a cherry of completely biased fangirling. Feel cheated. Get mad. Hate me. *

Story time goes on! The room had been sterilized to the best of my ability—a liberal amount of Lysol disinfectant spray had been sacrificed for the cause, tingeing the air with a lovely, lemony scent. I'd tied a bandanna around my mouth in lieu of a mask and had a baseball cap on to keep my hair from trailing in his...nevermind. My high quality surgical tools—quilting needles, fishing wire, packing tape and pliers—were laid out rather professionally looking atop a clean dishtowel draped over a cookie sheet. A pile of sheets ripped up into bandages sat a little to one side. I'd scrubbed up past my elbows, donned a pair of surgical gloves, and took a last long look at banananastien. The rubbery yellow victim had accumulated more stitches then a Canadian rugby team. I left it on the bed stand nearby next to my notes and carefully hand drawn diagrams referenced from some very helpful websites. No printer, sadly. But there were some very vivid pictures I found quite unhelpful. Go to wikipedia. Type in Wound Man. This is what it felt like I was up against. Humming an untitled song to keep myself sane, I grabbed a clean towel, dipped it in the clean water mixed with something called Hibiclense, and began to mop up the hunk of manflesh that fangirl couldn't quite keep quiet over.

AND to distract you from _that_ horrid image, how about you hear one of the openers I didn't use? So one of the discarded rambles was about words my 11th grade AP Human Geography teacher hated and how we would write them on the board just to see her shudder—no, we weren't wicked, it was a fun game! Fun teacher too. She forgave every "Moist Spider Ointment" we scrawled out with every color of dry erase marker she had. The words that twitch my shudder buttons? _Bathe_ and _soothe_. Just hearing them makes me…cringe. Ask my family—when it's in a movie I'll do this cool twitchy dance, scrunching up my face and clenching my fists so hard my hands shake. When lazy authors have the audacity to put them in sentences along with "fevered brows" and "trembling limbs" a little bit of my grey matter dies.

Why am I resurrecting even the slightest percentage of this ramble? Because I'm using those words, popping uninvited into my brain, as the excuse for why I ran into the bathroom to puke at least 3 times doing this whole "**_Doogie Howser, M.D."_** imitation. It wasn't the blood. Nope. Or the fact Byakuya was missing most of his internal organs. (Coolio, right? Don't worry, we're getting there.) Uh-uh. Also had nothing to do with the fact I was NEEDLE PHOBIC PEEPS LOOK AWAY contemplating a little too much on driving a sharp, shiny pointy object through extremely red, bloody, oozing (did I mention bloody?), feels like raw chicken, bloody mess. I honestly had not anticipated stitching to have noises, but it did. A very grating noise when endured over several hours time.

Nope. It was the complete Mary Suvian lines my brain wrote out on it's own as I carefully wiped away blood. "Soothing his fevered limbs." "Bathing the sweat of battle from his—"

(insert puking moment here. I love having a bathroom so close by. Also took care of that "Hafta pee" problem plaguing me. Boy, can I multitask or what? Hands scrubbed up past the elbow, new pair of gloves, time to delve back into the life size game of Operation)

Well, rejected ramble one seemed to be a great success! You see why I ditched it? Here was rejected ramble number two! I read a lot. I read fast. There really isn't a good way to convey to you just how fast I read…oh wait, there is. July 2007—I read all 7 Harry Potter books in 24 hours. This means most of the huge fantasy novels lesser mortals spend months reading I put back on the shelf in roughly 3-5 hours. So when I say that I have read a great deal of books involving gruesome sword wounds, please accept it as truth. I was bracing myself for, and I promise I quote, "purple grey coils". I kid you not, every war novel, murder mystery, space opera, hospital drama, crime scene investigation, and realism charged fantasy story describes intestines this way—an ugly loopy mass perpetually trying to bust out of whatever gruesome gut wound the main characters/fillergami are suffering from. So when no such entrails threatened to become extrails, I got curious. The nastiest cut on him was on the lower right side of his perfect abs. It was really deep. I know this because I stuck my hand in it up to my wrist

Knowing full well that if it was a real game of Operation Byakuya's nose would be flashing red and I'd be dead of electrocution, I carefully eased my hand in and wiggled my fingers. My humming jumped from alto to soprano range while my inner nerd started screaming at me for being a destructive n00b.

It was sloshy. His insides. He was all blood on the inside. There were no insides on his inside. Just lots of blood , swirling around like a gruesome whirlpool, a whirlpool pulling my hand towards-

(much messier puking scene here. I barely pulled out and made it to the bathroom in time. In fact, had to stop writing and do a live reprise thinking about it just now. Learn something new everyday, eh?)

Rejected ramble three was something random about guts. Or was it goats? Anyway, I probably insulted the French in there as well. I wasn't exactly paying attention during ramble three. Four had a few good points though, especially since it basically extolled all the virtues of duct tape and from then on superglue. It's a myth that superglue was used as some magic instant suture during WWII…or WWI, can't remember. Oh wait, Vietnam! However, it's entirely fact that on shallow (Remember that children, SHALLOW cuts) cuts superglue can be used to seal shut wounds. No lies, google it! For the gashes that weren't showing bones, I carefully cleaned them off (not bathed. NOT BATHED!) and did some delicate painting with possibly the coolest liquid known to man. One cut in particular which ran from the corner of his eyebrow towards his ear…

Ramble five was full of wit. Honestly, makes me cry just to think about it. Poetry, man, poetry. The Bard himself would have joined in the weeping. In fact, it was so beautiful that I can hardly think of it now without crying a little…probably because the stuff I wrote in it didn't actually happen. Now THAT was some good fan-fiction. Mm. (oh, get your mind out of the gutter)

On my sixth try, after staring at a blank page for over two hours and praying for the first time since I died, I created something beautiful and true. The sixth start to this story inspired the final version of the introduction. And if you read that introduction again, perhaps you understand why I restarted a seventh and eighth time.

So now...I become irritated. Now I let this whole train-wreck of an entry, the worst ramble I've started yet, dissolve into whatever my overclocked brain can think of which is Shippers who refuse to see things my way, namely rude IchiHimes. (emphasis on rude. The nice ones are invited to tea later.) Also, goats. Clever little devils. They are the cats of the space world. Did you know the work asinine comes from the latin word for donkey? And that the singing voice of Aladdin was the first kid to tell that Silly Rabbit just who Trix are for? Loving the person who killed you. Meow. People making noise when they walk. The pull of time on hair. The pinch of cheap jewelry. Never ever hearing silences.

_But wait_, you cry out, _what's with the crack from nowhere? What happened to that touching moment when you looked into his eyes?_ _What's going on? WHERE IS MEGAN TAKING THIS? AUUUGH, WHY TELL ME WHYYYYYYY!_

Now. Before anyone hurts themselves, let us step back from the crazy and ask ourselves a few questions.

Did, or did that chapter not start out in a most promising way?

Did you think it would be a useful and entertaining way to spend your time?

Were there high, unmet hopes connected with the story content of chapter 5?

Are you or are you not confused/infuriated with the author at this moment?

Probably the most infuriating yet tantalizing collection of disjointed thoughts you've ever read, neh? I can practically feel your anger rising in vapors from your screen and am bracing myself for the flames. But there was a purpose to this, and with it I introduce ramble seven—the rant.

Now you know exactly how I felt when I noticed stitches the first 3,000,000 of the 5000,000,000 (note:hyperbole) stitches I'd spent the past 8 hours tying had just…fallen out. Little knotted loops of earth fishing line, which apparently had no effect on _reishi_, were slipping out of his arm, his chest, his leg, that racy cut just above his belt, were falling like looped snowflakes. As I watched, my night of work unraveled before my eyes, my grandiose and gruesome gesture became nothing more then an exercise in futility.

Of course, the superglue held just FINE.

So, we're all on the same page with the anger and irritation, correct? And now, I must admit I have no idea what to type in order to fuse you with the sort of terror that immediately followed. Byakuya, who had basically been drifting in and out of consciousness since afore not-mentioned wonderful moment, chose this time to sit bolt upright, clamp one hand around my throat and scream,

"_Teme o korosu_!"

Any Hitsugaya fans in the audience? You know what that means. Everyone else?

"I'll kill you!"

Good thing I'd taken care of that whole "I hafta pee thing" earlier.


	6. Interlude

_Interlude: _

_September 14, 2009_

_Temporary Guard Headquarters _

_Conversation overheard translated and transcribed for your reading enjoyment by Matsumoto Rangiku 4th seat of the Final Guard. Posted while Captain Commander was AFK, omg, lol! this whole internet thing is lots of fun! ;) :) XD ;* _

_

* * *

_

S: Report.

A: Yessir. As per your orders the soul of Megan Grey was purified at 9:45 this morning. Her final words and wishes are detailed in the paper copy of my report along with a letter from her written for your eyes only.

S: Is it in English like the rest of this mess? _[lol, Matsumoto here! Sound effect! Shuffling papers.]_

A: Unknown sir, as was specified as your eyes only, Captain, sir!

S: So respectful today, third seat.

A: Only showing the proper respect for a Captain Commander sir!

S: And angry.

A: You promised that girl you would keep publishing.

S: And now all pretense of respect is gone.

A: Sir, the only thing that's been driving her these past months—the only thing that made her willingly submit to the purification was her trust that you would follow through on your word.

S: What's today?

A: September the fourteenth.

S: Miss Grey died over 10 weeks ago. Willing or not it was past her time to go. I told her I would post how she died. Due to her flair for the theatrical, the time and mode of her death was already established. No further need to update.

A: Are you simply going to throw the rest of them out, then?

S: I know you've been stealing pages out of my wastebasket and translating for the other guard members. Now you've all grown attached to her despite knowing what had to be done.

A: What you _say _had to be done.

S: She was a liability.

A: And someone who laughed while the rest of had forgotten how to smile.

S: We didn't need a morale booster, Abarai. We needed help.

A: She did help us! The intelligence passed on to us about the fugitive Kuchiki Byakuya is the biggest lead the Final Guard has stumbled onto in the past 20 years!

S: I agree. Miss Grey had intelligence, drive and promise.

A: Then why did—

S: Because even lazy, lewd, shameless Matsumoto who hasn't touched a sword in decades still has more to offer us then that lovesick, miserable, "help me I'm so misunderstood" mortal Megan Grey.

A: Ah. You're going to miss her too.

[There was a long pause here. Icy.]

S: I have to get back to translating. Unless you had other business to report?

A: Yessir.

S: Pft. Formality makes a return.

A: We've located Kira Izuru and Hisagi Shuuhei.

[Longer, Icier pause.]

S: Both of them?

A: Yes. Together in the Human World.

S: Any reason you didn't mention that FIRST? [I'm pretty sure he…growled here.] As you leave, tell Matsumoto to stop eavesdropping—don't look so surprised, I could feel she was back. Also tell her to find Oomaeda. Have both of them meet me at the entrance. You'll be in charge while the three of us are gone.

A: In charge of who? Kyouraku? Are…are you really putting a kidou barrier around your desk?

S: Let's just say I've grown tired of you rifling through my trash. You have orders, third seat Abarai. We need to kill Kira and Hisagi before someone else does.

* * *

o_oh, that shiro-chan! such a cold cold heart…of course i was the one who killed izuru and shuuhei on that mission so i guess that goes for me too i guess _

_and dont worry about the Commander refusing to post because abarai isn't the only one with access to his wastebasket and i dont think even the kidou shields of a Captain Commander can stop me anymore ) ~.^ …how do you make a devil smiley face with emoticons!1?_

_L for LUV! _

_`*`~*Matsumoto Rangiku*~`*`_


	7. First Words

_Don't use such strong words, it only makes you look weak - Aizen Sosuske_

"TEME O KOROSU!"

I punched him on reflex.

Looking back on the things I did in life, punching Kuchiki Byakuya in the face was not one of the smartest-especially since I was still clenching the curved needle. He let go of my throat (desired result) and I could suddenly turn my full attention to the pointy, silver sliver embedded in my palm (undesired side-effect). We collectively reeled back, me biting back a squawk, fully aware of the two roomies sleeping down the hall. He obviously had no such inhibitions.

I watched fansubs. I took Japanese at school. I read the English-Japanese dictionary for fun sometimes. (more exciting than it sounds) And, although I didn't recognize the words he used, I knew enough about inflection to realize none of those words were any my Sensei would EVER teach me.

"I thought you...were supposed to be...a gentleman!" I hissed. Not like he would understand me if he were listening. Clenching the protruding end of the needle in my teeth, I slowly started to draw it out, tasting blood. Apparantly that movement was too sudden for Mr. Paranoia-

"_Kido no Roku-juu Roku_!" He spat back, pointing at me. _That phrase _I knew.

"What the-" but it was too late. 6 bars of light stabbed through me, freezing me in place. I couldn't even unclench my jaw from around the needle. I tried to protest but he cut me off.

"_Where am I?" _He yelled in Japanese. "_Where is this? Who are you?"_

"Captain, I implore you to please speak more quietly." My reply was much, MUCH softer. AND more polite I must add. He seemed taken aback by the honorifics and super-duper proper speech. Thank goodness that was all they taught in 101. In the moment of stunned silence that followed, I began rattling off the little Japanese speech I'd memorized earlier that night, muttering around that stupid needle.

"_This is the transient world. You are 6th squad captian Kuchiki Byakuya. My name is Megan Grey. 19 years old. A human. Special skill-I can see ghosts._" Wow, Megan. you are totally going to be sued for copyright infrigement. "_You were in a fight. Hurt. I am helping you._" I paused for a moment to let the last bit sink in. "_Helping you._"

We stared each other down. At least, I assumed he was staring me down. The brilliant glow of the kido spell really threw off my vision-he was just a sillouhette sitting on the bed.

"_My name. You know it. How?" _His sentances were short, thank goodness. My mind froze. What was I supposed to say?

"_Sleep talking." _

"_LIAR_!" The dark shadow moved in a blur-then he was there, towering over me, a figure robed in blood and rage and absolutely nothing else. "_How do you know?"_

"Bleach!" I squeaked in English.

"_Who is Bleach? What do they know?"_

"No, no, it's different! A book! Manga!" My stomach was fluttering violently and I first I thought it was his...ahem, proximity to me. Then I started cramping again. "_That room-on a table-_" Tried to twitch my chin towards the living room door. I'd left volume 21 of the English tankoban on the coffee table. He swept the door open-only to find my roomie Ralynne on the other side, hand lifted like she was about to knock.

"Megan?" She said slowly. "Wow. How'd you get the door open so fast?"

"Uh..." I said.

"Sorry, just wanted to check if you were ok." Her expression told me she saw nothing out of the ordinary-besides me dressed like a wacko, bandana and rubber gloves, pulling something out of my hand with my teeth. She was staring right past Byakuya. "I heard some weird noises-what was that about bleach?"

"Just cleaning my bathroom." I muttered. Couldn't even shrug. Byakuya brushed past her, bent on getting to that table.

"Alright. I'm going to work." She closed the door behind her, apparantly content to let me get back to cleaning.

"To work? What time is it?" I called out after her.

"6:30! Breakfast shift at Contemp!" She yelled back. I heard the front door open and close. There was silence in the front room. As the moments passed, my stomach wound tighter and tighter. My hand began to throb. My shins and thighs started to burn-I'd been caught midsquat. Straining, the only noise I could hear was furiously turning pages. The cramps started to get so bad that spots of black danced accross my vision-or maybe the kido spell was burning my retinas.

It seemed like an eternity later when Byakuya burst back through my bedroom door. The kido spell collasped, my stomach giving a final spasm. With a quick yank, I bit the the needle out, and spat it accross the room. I ripped the bandanna from around my neck, wrapping it tightly around my hand. I was so focused on getting that STUPID peice of metal out of my hand that I didn't realize Byakuya was being deathly silent.

I glanced up, ready to use the few cuss words I DID know in Japanese-than I looked at his face. Mental healthwise, he didn't look so good. (But...oh MAN, did the rest of him look good. Sorry, sorry, back to story)

In one shaking hand, he held up my Bleach book. It was opened to the third to last page of chapter 179 (I am not a nerd)-that scene on Sokyoku's hill just after Aizen's betrayal.

The page that showed Rukia's face when Byakuya apologized to her. His mouth opened and shut a few times, searching for the correct wording for his question.

It's just as well he couldn't get anything out. I didn't have the words in Japanese or English to possibly explain.

Author's Note: Raise of hands-how many of you died in shock getting this notice in your inbox? Well, to let you know what's been happening, I got into the animation program, I've been working my butt off for the past two years, and I interviewed with Pixar for an internship last week. Thought I would celebrate (especially since that Pixar internship would be the central plot to part 3 of Grisaille...) I am going to do my best to continue to update and to bring you this story. Can I say that reviews are a HUGE help/push in getting this done? As always, these can also be found in the livejournal community colorfulgreys.


End file.
